


Clothes Make the Man

by sharkie335



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney’s a little frustrated with John’s housekeeping skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothes Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Still in love...with John/Rodney" McSheplets fest. I asked for prompts to get me started and lapislaz gave me the first line of Rodney knew he loved John beyond reason, but if he kept leaving his boxer briefs on the bathroom floor there was going to be trouble in Paradise.

Rodney knew he loved John beyond reason, but if he kept leaving his boxer briefs on the bathroom floor there was going to be trouble in Paradise. He’d always believed that military guys were neat-freaks, and before they shared quarters, he would have said the same about John.

He would have been wrong. Hoo boy, would have he been wrong. John wasn’t a _slob_ but he had a tendency to leave his clothes wherever he took them off. There were boxers in the bathroom, and socks next to the couch, and black t-shirts absolutely everywhere.

Just as he started to gather up the scattered clothes, John walked through the door, whistling. “Hey, Rodney,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and laying it over the shelf next to the door. “What, is it laundry day already?” he asked, eyeing the stack of material in Rodney’s arms.

Rodney growled, dropping the pile where he stood. “Pick up your damn clothes, Sheppard,” he said. “I’m sick of tripping over them all the time. We have a hamper in the bedroom. Kindly _use it_.” 

“Aw, Rodney,” John started.

But Rodney held up a hand. “Don’t ‘But, Rodney,’ me,” he said. “I am not living in a pigsty because you are too distracted to clean up after yourself.”

John got a cheeky grin on his face and he stepped forward, over the clothes, to put his hands on Rodney’s shoulders. “I thought you liked it when I got distracted,” he said, and before Rodney could argue the point, he bent his head and pressed his mouth to Rodney’s.

Rodney’s mouth had been starting to open - to tell John what a moron he was being, he swore - and John took shameless advantage, his tongue dipping in to taste. Rodney couldn’t stop the groan even if he’d been able to think well enough to try.

John moaned in answer, the kiss deepening. One of John’s hands moved up, wrapping around the back of Rodney’s neck, and the other moved down, gripping his ass, pulling him closer. Rodney gave up all semblance of fighting and just wrapped his arms around John, sliding his hands under the back of his t-shirt.

When John practically melted into Rodney’s touch, it just inflamed him further, and, suddenly desperate for more skin, he lifted John’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head, flinging it away. When he tried to pull John close again, however, John said, “Uh, uh. Turn about is fair play.” Not wanting to be apart longer than he had to be, he ripped his own shirt off, and reached out again.

But John, that tease, pushed him back, and back, and back, and Rodney only realized what he was doing when the backs of his knees hit the couch and he flopped down. “What are you - “ he stopped when John dropped heavily to his knees in front of him. “Oh, um, yes, please.”

John laughed. “So polite,” he said, as his busy hands unbuttoned and unzipped. When he started to tug on the waist of Rodney’s pants, Rodney obediently lifted his hips, letting John yank his pants down to his knees.

He felt embarrassed for a second, and then was incapable of feeling anything above the waist as a hot, wet mouth sucked him in. John was good at this; very, very good; and he knew just what buttons to push to have Rodney a melting pile of goo in minutes.

And the bastard _kept him there_. He held him right on the edge of an orgasm and started to slow his busy tongue, sucking slowly and sensuously, tonguing the spot on the back of the head, the one that made his eyes want to roll back.

Words were spilling out of his mouth, words that he had no control of, nor could he stop them. “Please, John. Please, please, don’t tease. Make me come. Come on, please, John. God, please.”

John very obviously looked up, meeting Rodney’s eyes, and slowly went down, taking Rodney as deep as he could in this position, making Rodney cry out. He pulled back, teeth scraping lightly along the big vein, and then he went down again, even further. And then he _swallowed_. 

Rodney was good, but he didn’t have the control of a saint, and that fucking broke him. There was a ringing in his ears, and all of his nerves fired in pleasure, as he emptied himself down John’s throat.

John continued to suck and lick until Rodney had to push him away, oversensitive. “God, that was good,” he said. He knew that John was probably turned on enough to be hurting, and he tried to gesture that John should get up. It came out as kind of a vague wave, but John knew what he meant, and stood.

“Rodney?” he said, and Rodney knew that he was asking what he should do.

“Pants. Off. You, on my lap.” He fought to keep his eyes open as John hurriedly stripped off his BDUs and boots. He’d been right - John was so hard, his cock was practically purple. 

It only took a minute for John to straddle Rodney’s lap, knees on either side of Rodney’s thighs, hard cock poking Rodney in the stomach. Rodney wrapped his hand firmly around the shaft, using his thumb to spread the precome around slickly.

“Want to get off?” he asked, as he started to move his hand slowly and steadily. 

“Fuck, Rodney,” John huffed a laugh. “You know I do.”

“Yeah, I do. And I know that you want me to fuck you later, don’t you?” John’s hips jerked at that, his cock twitching in Rodney’s firm grip. 

He tightened his grip, sped his strokes slightly. “Go ahead, John. Fuck my fist, and after we both recover, I’ll lick you open and then fuck you into next week.”

John groaned, his hips moving in the same rhythm as Rodney’s hand as he sought his release. He had to be close - John had more of an oral fixation than Rodney did, and sucking Rodney off always turned him on unbearably.

He was giving little moaning pants as he started to fuck Rodney’s fist even faster, chasing his own orgasm. Rodney did what he could to help, jerking him firmly, using his other hand on John’s balls, which were drawn up tight against his body.

A few more thrusts, and John froze, his cock thickening and twitching as he spurted over Rodney’s fist. “Good,” Rodney said, loosening his hand but continuing to pet John’s cock as he came down. 

John chuckled, his normal “post-sex” laugh that he always got. It was a sound that only Rodney was ever going to hear again if he had his way. “You going to ride me hard?” he asked, still sounding turned on to Rodney.

“Yep, and put you away wet,” Rodney said. “But first...” He almost laughed when John cocked an eyebrow curiously. “You’re going to pick up your clothes.”


End file.
